Sin is sin, till we partake.....

November poetry number twelve.

Sin is sin, till we partake....

He told the pretty Irish girl, sin is sin till we partake in her sweetness. Then the sin become a part of us, we will accept willingly. The modest girl asked the poet/soldier. Don't you fear hell? He smiled and he told her. I have seen hell and I am here with you. If we don't taste the elixir of passion, dare the mind, the body and the heart to know the dark places of sin. You will not know what is sin or not.

She laughed at his words. She smiled and she told him. You damn soldiers believe, you may die tomorrow and you must in-take life today. You need to drink the Irish whiskey, dance till you cannot. Love many and swim in pleasure without paying the cost. You believe your debt will be paid when the greed of war steal your soul. You love the Bacchus prayer.

"Bacchus blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure, Rich the treasure, sweet the pleasure, sweet the pleasure after pain." Dryden...

He asked her for a dance, he asked her for a kiss. He told her. I love your Irish accent, slender waist and beautiful face. Please allow the music to make us brave and foolish.

She took his hand and they went to the dance floor. The music was good and the song smoothe her fear. She whispered to him. My father was a soldier, my brother is a soldier. You men believe war is life, life is war. Dear soldier, it is not. Love is life, life is love. Please dear soldier, war teaches you nothing. My father talks to dead men left in shallow graves when the whiskey is enough. My brother's eyes, are cold and listless. They are too many graveyards already. I pray for the day when boys can be boys, learning kisses, not killing.

He brought her closer and he told her. You are right my dear Irish beauty. Thank you for the dance and the honest words. I do appreciate your kindness.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading...

Reviews

[Kerra]

My father talks to dead men left in shallow graves when the whiskey is enough. My brother's eyes, are cold and listless. They are too many graveyards already. I pray for the day when boys can be boys, learning kisses, not killing.

Being a Military brat, For some reason these lines drew me in. There are too many grave sites for sure full of military men and women. I am sure woman prefer kissing over killing. This is a truthful write

[Coyote Poetry]

Men too dear Kerra. Kisses are sweet and war is not. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I agree with her....Love is life.

Kissing is definitely a better pastime than killing.
But when duty calls for either...there we are.

You really make your stories so vivid that I always feel I am right there in the poem or story with you.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Jacob for reading and the comment. We need more kisses and less war.